A Series of Drunken Stories (1)

Our boy one turned 21 this week. He went out, had a great time, and then got sick, as he said, “at the end.” *giggles* We are so glad he stopped when he got sick.

It reminded me of my early drinking experiences.

I don’t really count, because I was allowed to drink at home, and in others’ homes, so drinking was not a novelty for me at 21.

My freshman year of college, my friends partied every weekend. I stayed in. I’d read and write and have such a good introverted time — at least until those girls would bring their drunk ass dramas to me in the middle of the night.
I’d sort out their fights, via my awesome mediation techniques, (or just by being the only sober person in the room.) Sometimes, the drama involved getting busted for underage drinking, which only made my decision to stay in more appealing. At least once a month, one of those three girls got sick.

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By the time Spring rolled around, they could not wait to take me out and get me, Miss Goody Two-Shoes, positively wasted. They had a great plan. They’d take me to a frat party with guys who would mark us as 21, so we wouldn’t get into trouble with the attending police. They would get me all kindsa fucked up, and they would laugh and laugh, they said.

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Dancing was great. Dancing was so much better than mingling and making loud small talk.

The beer wasn’t working fast enough, they said. The punch didn’t have enough kick, they said. It was best to get serious, they said. I did shots of vodka, grape syrupy stuff, and jello shots. They thought that’d do the trick.

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I continued to drink beer.

I went outside to cool off from the dancing, where I found a guy I dated in high school. He shared his flask of Irish whiskey.

More beer.

Sadly, my friends got quite sick. Cindy decided to stay with Michelle, who was passed out on the basement floor. I had to take Abby home before she passed out.

I called a cab, because I couldn’t walk a completely shitfaced Abby for half a mile, and she sure couldn’t walk herself.
When we got into the cab, my dear shitfaced friend turned to me, and shouted, “This was supposed to be YOU! You were supposed to be sick!”
“I know. I’m so sorry.” I petted her hair.
She leaned up and slurred to the cab driver, “What’s your name?”
“Scott.”
“Scott, my name is Abby, and you must never, ever let me drink this much again.”
“Okay, Abby.”
“Thank you, Scott.”

Abby was so drunk she didn’t even remember where we lived.
Abby was so drunk, the cabby had to help me get her onto the elevator.
Abby was so drunk, she was afraid to be alone, because she might die.

Me?

I was just fiiine.

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It would take another two years and fourteen shots of Mexican tequila to make me sick, and that is a story for another time.

About joey

Neurotic Bitch, Mother, Wife, Writer, Word Whore, Foodie and General Go-To-Girl
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15 Responses to A Series of Drunken Stories (1)

  1. Ohhh, do tell!! 😛

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  2. LindaGHill says:

    *rubs hands together* I can see this is going to get good. 🙂

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  3. meg68 says:

    oooh look! new circles!!

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  4. Jewels says:

    I very much dislike being drunk. And even more so… being with drunks. I drink on occasion, but rarely enough to get anything more than a little tipsy. My daughter turned 21 last year and decided to try getting drunk, she got so, so very sick, and hasn’t drank again since. I’m glad she had a sucky first experience to help deter her from future acts of idiocy. 😉

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  5. Sherry says:

    drinking to the point of sick got very old very fast…most of us learned to wait for the click that went off in our head, and said…..more and you will pay dearly…I became good enough to drink a lot without getting sick…finally I realized I was just drinking a lot. I don’t drink hardly ever now. It works better…I tend to use alcohol to “turn off unpleasant thoughts” …that ‘s never a good reason…I don’t have many unpleasant thoughts any more either…I suspect the two were somewhat connected.

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  6. I always wonder about the effect of drinking at home at a younger age. I didn’t drink until college (first sip was completely accidental too – communion wine instead of juice!) and I spent many a weekend being sick. I think a more well-adjusted culture would be better for kids than the shock of being dropped into so much alcohol-laced freedom of college/away from home/autonomy all at the same time.

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  7. Matt Roberts says:

    I love drinking stories. I first drank at 5, Little Kings, because the bottles were small and my sized. Typically at the lake when I party with my dad and all his buddies, I’m the last one awake, drinking alone. Sad.

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